Song of the Past
by HollyPotter15
Summary: Christine Daae is a character in present Paris, studying at a university of the arts. She is slowing fading back to the Opera Populaire of 1870, enticed by Erik The Phantom . All lyrics and references to lyrics are property of the Phantom of the Opera.
1. DISCLAIMER

**THIS IS A DISCLAIMER**

**I DO NOT OWN THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA**

**(AS MUCH AS I WISH I DID)**

**BUT I DO OWN MY IMAGINATION **

**I'M JUST GOING TO PUT THIS AT THE BEGINNING, BUT THIS GOES FOR THE ENTIRE STORY.**


	2. Chapter 1

I jumped up in my sleep and groaned. My ipod was in my ear sand a draft was coming in through the open window. An unfamiliar song was playing. I looked at the screen, but it was black. The battery was dead. I yanked the earbuds out of my ears and looked around the girls of sleeping girls, but I saw nothing. I settled back uneasily. The music persisted, filling the room. The song seemed familiar, like I had heard it before, but if I had, it was a distant memory.

It was a man singing, well, more accurately, chanting. I listened to the words.

I am your Angel of Music,

Come to me, Angel of Music!

I froze. How could it be anyone but my father! As he lay in bed dying, he had beckoned me to come close. I would never forget his words.

"Christine, I am dying. You know how much I love you, and how beautiful I think your voice is."

"Papa, no-"

"Don't argue with me, Christine Daaé. When I am gone-"

"Don't go!"

"Christine, my time is running out. It is my day. My end was determined by our Lord before I was born. When I am gone, I will send you my Angel of Music to help you keep perfecting your voice. I will also leave you my violin." He coughed a horrible cough that rattled through his ribcage. His eyes started to become glassy. "Goodbye, my love." His eyelids fluttered for a moment before gently closing.

"Papa!" I had flung my body on top of his. I hugged him and screamed his name, but he was gone. At seven, I didn't know any better than to not climb into the hospital bed with him. The doctor and his brigade of nurses found me, curled up next to him two hours later.

I came back to the present. "Angel?" I whispered. "Papa?"

I am your Angel of Music,

Come to me, Angel of Music!

Maggie stirred in the bed next to mine. It seemed that no one else heard the voice but me. I felt the urge to sing back.

Angel of Music,

Teacher or Father?

Who is this strange creature?

A shadow in the corner stirred. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Shadows don't stir. It suddenly detached itself from the wall and stepped forward. I jumped out of my bed in concern. I grabbed my alarm clock, prepared to throw it at the strange intruder. The shadow came closer and closer until I realized that it wasn't a shadow at all, but a man. It was a young man, not much older than me, and I wondered if it was one of the boys from the dormitories across the way pulling a prank on me. "Who are you?" I whispered.

He chanted again.

I am your Angel of Music,

Come to me, Angel of Music?

Recklessly, I stepped forward. His voice was an unfamiliar rich, tenor voice, strong but soft at the same time. I didn't know anyone with a voice this beautiful. His voice enchanted me and made me blind to everything but him. He was wearing odd clothes, a white shirt with a ruffled v-neck collar and old fashioned black pants. But most mysterious about him were his long black cape and the white mask that only covered half of his face. His hair was a dark black-brown and it was slicked back. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown.

He was beautiful and mysterious in the most romantic way. I reached out my right hand to touch the contours of his face but dropped it in fright.

He shocked me by reaching out his own cold hand and brushing it across my cheekbone. I got goose bumps up and down my arms. Maggie's eyes fluttered open. The man swished his cape and was gone. I dropped to my knees. Where he had been standing only moments ago lay a single red rose adorned with a black silk ribbon.


	3. Chapter 2

"Who was that?" she demanded incredulously.

"No one. You and I were just dreaming. Go back to sleep."

"Are you sure? I could've sworn I just say a guy in here just now…"

"There was no guy in here, Maggie."

"If you say so," she whispered uneasily before breaking into a grin, "or was it a ghost?" She looked terrified again.

"That's not funny you know. There's no such thing as ghosts."

"Maybe it was him."

"Who?"

"The Phantom of the Opera. This building used to be the Opera Populaire, you

know."

"Yeah, I know. Do you believe everything that James says?"

"Of course not. Everyone knows that most if it is rubbish, but mind you, the legend of an 'opera ghost' has been around quite a bit longer than he has." I sighed.

"Goodnight, Maggie."

"Goodnight, Christine." I wriggled back under the covers, wondering if my mysterious visitor was anything more than a product of my over-active imagination.

I woke up to the regular ringing of church bells at six in the morning. The nine of us girls in the dormitory rose simultaneously, groaning. The university was putting on Carmen, and rehearsals started early and dragged on for hours everyday. I was a just a dancer, but there were only four days left before our first presentation.

Maggie plopped down at the end of my bed, waving a red rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem. I bolted upright. "Where did you get that?" I demanded.

"Relax, tiger. It was sitting on your nightstand, just like, oh, I don't know, a certain midnight visitor put it there?"

"Okay, you got me. There was a boy in here last night."

"I knew it! Okay who is he? It's got to be someone at the university, no one else can sneak into the dormitories. Is he an actor? Or is he in the chorus?"

"Neither. Maggie, do you remember what I told you, about how when my father died, he promised to send his Angel of Music?"

"Yeah. You don't believe that do you, Christine?"

"He came, Maggie! It was him, my father in this very room!"

"Christine, you must have been dreaming. Stories like this can't come true. Christine, you are talking in riddles, and it's not like you!"  
"Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!"

"Who is this angel, this..."

"Angel of Music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel!" 

"Christine, we have to go to rehearsal. Christine?" I heard him singing again. I remembered the touch of his hand on my face and I reached for the man that was not there. "Christine, what's wrong?"

"He's with me, even now,"

"Your hands are cold,"

"All around me,"

"Your face, Christine, is white,"

"It frightens me,"

"Don't be frightened."

"I d-d-don't know what to do," I stuttered. I was cold.

"First of all, put on a sweater, you're freezing, and second of all, come on, we're going to be late for rehearsal!" I threw on my clothes and grabbed my ballet slippers off the end of my bed. The entire opera was On Pointe for dancers, and my feet were already bloody and blistered. We ran down the grand staircase and into the auditorium. We dashed onstage with our ballet slippers on just as Mme. Porter walked in.

"You are very nearly late, you two. I expect better judgment in the future. We hung our heads and a few boys snickered. Mrs. Porter turned around and smacked her cane on the stage. "Enough, all of you! We will begin today with act three, scene one." She signaled the orchestra, and they started to play.

Four hours later, I staggered to the cafeteria with Maggie and Genevieve for lunch. We plopped down at a table. Maggie was working on a paper for Musical Theory, and Genevieve was signing a card. "Oh my gosh!" I shouted. "I completely forgot! It's Valentine's day, isn't it?"

"Yeah, this is for James," she replied. "You're not the only one who forgot. Speaking of forgetting things, don't forget that we have our vocal lesson with Mme. Girard." I groaned.

"Again, didn't we just see her, like yesterday?"

"No, but it certainly seems that way. At least she thinks that you're improving. She's yet to compliment me once this year unless '_Hit it higher! Higher, or I'll whack you with a stick!' _ is a compliment."

"She likes you; she's just expressing it with hate." Maggie laughed at her own joke. "Leveque is going to kill me if this isn't done." She scribbled furiously on her paper. The empty seat next to me was suddenly occupied by none other than Hunter Lawson, a boy from the states whom I was madly in love with.

"Hi," I whispered. Maggie and Genevieve giggled.

"Well, I guess we'll let you two alone, then. Besides, Maggie has work to finish, don't you, Maggie." Genevieve dragged Maggie away from the table, and they waved their fingers as the exited the cafeteria, leaving me all alone with Hunter. I would have to get for it later.

"I didn't come over here for nothing, Christine Daaé. It's St. Valentine's day, and I figured that we could do something special tonight, just you and me. What do you say?" I was shell-shocked to the point where I couldn't form words. I nodded over and over again before finally getting the words out.

"Yes, I'd love to!"

"Good. I guess I'll see you later then." He winked at me and then walked back to his table. His friends clapped him on the back and hooted at him. I rolled my eyes. Some boys were just immature.

I squealed as I met up with Maggie and Genevieve. "He asked me to go out with him tonight!"

"And what did you say?" asked Maggie.

"Yes, of course!" I was giddy with excitement.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Genevieve.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"The music lesson with Mme. Gerard at seven o'clock this evening for instance?"

"Oh, no! What am I going to do? It's not like I'm going to go walk over to Hunter and say 'sorry, I can't come tonight after all'?"

"Don't worry, I have a plan, but you have to let us help you get ready, okay?"

"I don't understand, what are we going to do?"

Five hours later, I was wearing a dark blue spaghetti strap dress that went down to a little above my knees. Maggie had paired it with a little black purse and heels. They pulled my long brown curls into a high ponytail and rubbed lotion onto my arms and back. "You look amazing," breathed Maggie.

"Ditto," said Genevieve. I turned around to look in the full-length mirror and barely recognized the beautiful girl looking back at me.

"Wow," I whispered, "what did you guys do to me?"

"Nothing, just put you in clothes that make you look sexy and pulled up your hair," said Maggie bluntly.

"Thanks," I turned around in the mirror.

"Now, remember, you have a horrible headache and need to stay in bed and rest."

"Yes, don't do anything too reckless."

"I have the best friends in the world," I lamented before climbing down the fire escape. I was meeting Hunter at a little all-night café not too far from the campus.

"We know," they said.


	4. Chapter 3

Hunter was waiting for me, just as promised. "You look beautiful," he murmured. I giggled as he took my hand.

"Why, thank you. You look rather dashing yourself."

"I heard that you are missing out on your vocal lesson tonight to be with me. I also heard that the park is a good spot for a first date." I blushed. Who had known, and who had told? We started toward the park.

"I don't mind. Mme. Gerard is a little bit ornery, if you know what I mean."

"_I know you can hit that note, just go a little bit higher_," he cackled in a crack-job imitation of her voice. I laughed.

"That was really creepy, in a really funny way." We chatted like this for a while, walking through park, chatting about lessons and chastising mean teachers. We stopped at the café just as the sky started to get dark. A jazz band was playing, and he pulled me up from my chair.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

"You may, sir." He laughed as we twirled around under the streetlights, dancing in perfect rhythm to the music. We danced to six songs before heading back as the church bells began to sound, signaling nine o'clock. We walked onto campus together, and he walked me all the way to the fire-escape.

"Did you have a nice night?" he asked. He leaned in closer to me. Knowing what was about to happen, I said,

"Yes, Hunter Lawson, and all because of you." He kissed me, and I kissed back. When we broke apart, he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Friday night, then? I think a study date at the library is in order."

"I'll see you at five then. Goodnight, Hunter."

"Goodnight Christine. Sleep well. I'll see you at rehearsals tomorrow, I presume?"

"Unfortunately, yes." I waved as I skipped up the fire escape. To my surprise, our bedroom was completely empty. The lights were out and it was freezing. "Hello? Is anybody here?" Organ notes thundered in the distance. "Hello?" I felt a breeze lick my legs and I whirled around. The mysterious visitor from last night was standing behind me. I looked toward my nightstand. The rose was still there, and suddenly I felt very uncomfortable in my dress. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, instead, be backed up until he reached my mirror. Then he stepped backwards into the mirror. I blinked. That was impossible, last time I checked. He started chanting again.

Come to me Angel of Music,

I am your Angel of Music!

He reached out a gloved hand. I accepted it and he pulled me through. Suddenly I was in a tunnel of billowing sepia smoke. His cape billowed around me, and I felt like all the air was being sucked out my chest. My dress swirled in the wind and I couldn't believe my eyes as I watched it become an ankle- long white dress. It looked like clothing from the same time as the visitor's. I tried to ask where he was taking me, but the only thing I could hear over the din was his chant.

Suddenly, another mirror came into view, and he pulled me through it. I was standing in an old fashioned dressing room, covered in flowery wall-paper and ornately decorated. "Where am I?" I asked in wonder. I heard voices in from behind the one door in the room.

The man who had brought me here was gone, and I took in my surroundings as I searched for him. The room had a large vanity in one corner and a gigantic tinted mirror beside it. The room was filled with roses and had large windows with red velvet curtains. The entire room was lit by candlelight, and the result was shadows everywhere and a dull golden glow. The man was in the corner, holding something. He stepped forward toward me and held it out.

It was sheet music, held together by a black ribbon. It was handwritten in jet black ink on parchment paper. I looked up at him in wonder. "Sing," he instructed. Confused, I looked down at the sheet and then back up at him. "Sing," he ordered a second time. I pulled out the paper on top and obeyed. "_Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while -please promise me you'll try. When you find that, once again, you long to take your heart back and be free -if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me_."

"Beautiful, he murmured. "Softer, put more feeling behind the words. Make it yours." That was the longest string of words that he had every said to me. I tried harder this time.

"_We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea - but if you can still remember stop and think of me_ . . ."

"Louder, but softer. Piano-fortissimo!"

"_Think of all the things we've shared and seen - don't think about the way things  
might have been_ . . ."

"Softer!" I lowered my voice.

"_Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do -there will never be a day, when I won't think of you_ . . ." That was the entire page. I looked up at him to see his reaction. He was deep in thought.

"You need to focus more on the words. They are not just printed letters on a piece of paper, they are emotions! Feelings! Imagine you are someone trying to overcome a recent heartbreak if you have to." He pulled out the next page for me. "Again."

"_Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons, so do we, but please promise me, that sometimes you will think of me!_"

"Very good, but you have much still to learn. I will come again for you for your next lesson, but for now you must return to your own time." Silently, he took my hand and led me through the mirror. Reluctantly, I followed. After the tunnel sensation, I felt him push me from behind.

"Wait, I still don't know your-" I landed on the cold floor of my shared room. "Name." I finished with a sigh. I tried to convince myself that I had been dreaming, but then I noticed the rose, looking slightly wilted, from the night before beside my alarm clock on my nightstand. I groaned and grabbed the vase that Maggie had made for me years ago and filled it with water from the tap in the bathroom. When I came back to the room, I put the rose in the vase. Maggie, and Genevieve were waiting for me, as were Cecilia, Ernestine, Evangeline, and Victoria. "You're using my vase," Maggie noted.

"Well?" the girls asked in unison, "how was it?" I flopped down on my bed, exhausted from my mysterious encounter.

"It was splendid." I grinned. "He is such a gentleman." The girls all giggled.

"So did he give you the rose that you just put in that vase?" asked Victoria. Maggie's eyes lit up.

"So Hunter was your mysterious visitor the other night! That's who gave you the rose! I told you that I would guess it eventually!" I smiled weakly. If only she knew the half of it. Should I tell her about the man? _No_, I decided mentally. _It would only scare her_. Besides, I didn't really completely trust every girl in the room. Evangeline had a reputation as a gossip.

"Yeah, you got me. Look, I'm really exhausted, so I think I'm going to go to bed." They all nodded sympathetically. I changed into my pajamas and slipped under the covers, humming the song I had just been forced to sing to myself as I slipped into sleep.


	5. Chapter 4

I tossed and turned all night. The man who had taken me through the mirror haunted my sleep. I was trapped in a maze, and he was at every corner, shoving musical scores into my hands. Finally, the entire maze burst into flames and the music burned. I have no idea what it meant, but I'm sure it wasn't anything good. I fell out of bed at three in the morning and I couldn't get back to sleep, so I went over and stared into the mirror that had transported me to an entirely different world only hours ago.

That's when I noticed that my reflection was slightly different than it had been when I looked in it before. I looked paler. My light was skin was normally pale, but I wasn't this white. Maybe I was just seeing things. I truly was exhausted, and my throat hurt from pushing my limits earlier during my lesson, if you could call it.

I couldn't help wanting to go back to that dressing room and see him again. Even if it meant pushing more notes. Suddenly, a wave of pain cascaded over my body and I crumpled to my knees on the floor. I screamed. I heard a conversation that I was pretty sure was taking place in my head. I heard two men's voices that I didn't recognize. They were talking about me and another girl. I closed my eyes and saw a scene that definitely wasn't playing out in the bedroom of the girl's dormitory.

I recognized the stage as the one that was in the refinished opera house that we performed in. It looked like it was in the middle of its glory day. An enormous gold chandelier with spots for thousands of candles hung above the sea of red velvet seats. The enormous curtains for the stage matched the seats. What was the most marvelous was the scene being played out on the stage.

I recognized it as a scene from Hannibal; we had seen the film version in our drama class. A lady with huge red curls was in the middle of her aria, and I realized that I was seeing the opera house in the past. Suddenly, I was a ballerina, pirouetting perfectly in time to the light, flowing music, a song that I had only heard briefly once in my life before.

"No relation to the late Swedish violinist, I suppose?" One of the men walking next to Mme. Giry asked. He was pointing to me. He was short, and though he looked to be only in his mid-thirties to early forties, he already had grey hair.

Memories that weren't mine flooded through my head. My name was Christine Daaé, the only daughter of the famous violinist, Charles Daaé. I was an orphaned at age seven and taking here, the Opera Populaire to learn to be a dancer. I was only a chorus girl, but I wanted to be so much more. No one knew of the lessons I was receiving. It was the year 1860, and I was being watched Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles André, the new owners of the Opera Populaire. The old owner, Monsieur Lefèrve, was retiring today, and he was showing the two new owners around. There was a young man standing with them, looking slightly windswept, as if he had been in a hurry to get here.

More memories flooded into my head. He was Raoul de Changy, the Vicomte and also the new patron of the Opera Populaire. He was from a wealthy family, and we were childhood sweethearts. He called me Little Lotte. In fact, I was still in love with him! The red-headed woman with the nasally voice was Carlotta Giudicelli, the Prima Donna. I didn't like her. She was bossy and mean, but worst of all a total diva. The man singing beside her was Ubaldo Piangi, the leading tenor. He was short and squat, with a rather squished looking nose. According to my new memories, I liked him. He was funny and kind, but he was stricken for Carlotta. I also didn't believe in the Phantom of the Opera, the resident ghost. I had a shrine to my dead father.

Awestruck by all the coincidences to my real life, I stepped out of beat. I was immediately scolded by Mme. Giry, the head of the ballet. I quickly regained time and sung with the chorus. "_With feasting and dancing and song, tonight is celebration_!"

I was interrupted by a long drawn out scream of hour. Within seconds, I was looking back in the mirror where I had been only moments before. I whirled around. Maggie was screaming and pointing at me. I looked back in the mirror. I was completely translucent, but I was regaining color fast.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"What's wrong with me?" she laughed hysterically. I was completely back now. I stepped backwards, trying to get away from her, but she kept coming forward. She touched a hand to my face, and she seemed relieved that she was feeling flesh. "You were just completely transparent! I thought you had died and that you were coming back as a ghost. You had this odd look on your face, and you were dancing and twirling around and singing! Something about a celebration!" Now she was backing away, crying hysterically.

"Maggie, you were just-"

"Oh, no! Don't tell me that I'm just seeing things again! I'm not crazy! I'm not! I'm NOT!" Horrified, I tried to reach out to comfort her, but she pulled away.

"Maggie, what's wrong with you?" I repeated dumbly.

"I'm not crazy!" She was sitting on her bed, teetering on the edge, completely curled up in a fetal position. Just as I was about to tell her what I had seen, the door opened and Mme. Hearst ran in. She was the dean of the entire university. "Magdalene!" she cried. "It's okay, we're right here." She turned to face me. "What happened to her?" I felt horrible, but I said:

"I don't know, Mme. Hearst. I don't know." I wasn't lying, but I wasn't being completely honest either. Two other teachers came in to help escort her to the hospital. Calls for an ambulance were made, and in minutes, Maggie was carried out of the room on a stretcher, still screaming that she wasn't crazy. Genevieve and the other girls came rushing in.

"Go to the cafeteria, all of you. There's nothing to see here." Mme. Hearst herded them toward the cafeteria like sheep, but she left me be. I sank back onto the bed, knowing that I was responsible for the entire thing. Something inside Maggie had snapped when she saw me. Ever since last night, when she caught a glimpse of the mysterious man, she hadn't trusted me. Burrowing into the coverlet to cry, I realized that she had been right in doing so. It was all because of me, all because of the mysterious man that she had finally lost it.

If only he had never come.


	6. Chapter 5

I crawled out of my covers and screamed. He was there, standing in the corner of my room again. After Maggie's escapade earlier today, I was starting to doubt my own sanity. I looked him right in the eyes, as well as I could, considering he was still wearing the peculiar white mask. I wondered why it only covered half of his face. What was he trying to hide? He was certainly mysterious, that's for sure.

Who was he though? He wasn't from this time period, that was for sure. I was pretty sure that he was one of the people from 1860, if he was a person. He didn't say a word, just held out his right hand that, like last time, was covered in a black leather glove. Unlike last time, however, I hesitated before taking it. What would happen if I did? Would I never be able to come back if I did? As if sensing my dismay, he said "It's safe."

I loved his voice. Lured by that and the mystery of what was happening in the past, I took it. Once again we traveled through my mirror, and once again I felt the sensation of rushing wind surrounding and blinding me. It seemed to go quicker this time. This time I landed right where my vision had left off. I was onstage and Carlotta was shouting at M. Firmin and M. André. "Allo, allo. And I hope he is as excited by dancing girls as your new managers, because I will not be singing!" She continued to mutter about dancing girls.

"What did we do?" they wondered aloud.

"Grovel. Grovel, grovel." I looked around for the man, but he was nowhere in sight. I snapped back to her the new managers begging with her.

"…Bella diva!"

"Si, si, si."

"Goddess of song!" I rolled my eyes. Now they were begging her to sing her 'marvelous aria' at the beginning of act three. It may be marvelous, but not when she's singing it. She commanded M. Reyer to start the orchestra and the piano began to play. There was a familiar swish of cape above me but I saw nothing. She began to sing.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly,  
when we've said goodbye.  
Remember me once in a while -  
please promise me you'll try.  
When you find that, once again, you long  
to take your heart back and be free_-"

I got goose bumps as I heard her singing the song that the mysterious man had presented me only the day before. Suddenly, a backdrop fell, crushing Carlotta under it. There was frantic rushing about and lots of screaming. I found Meg Giry, a fellow dancer and apparently my best friend in the mess of people. "He's there," she whispered, "the Phantom of the Opera." There were shouts of

"Signora!"

"Signora!" Carlotta was screaming and crying about her arm that was twisted to an awkward angle.

"Signora, are you all right?" M. Lefèrve was asking Carlotta. She shook her head and continued to wail. "Buquet, for God's sake, man, what is going on up their?" A disheveled man ran out onto the catwalk directly above us. He was the opera drunk as well as resident story teller. Mme. Giry rolled her eyes.

"Please monsieur, don't look at me, as God's my judge I wasn't at my post ! Please sir, there's no one here! Or if there is, it must be a ghost!" He let out a flemmy laugh before stumbling back into the catwalks, muttering about the Phantom of the Opera. The memory came into my head just as Carlotta regained the ability to shout.

"Please, signora, these things do happen," Lefèrve begged. He groaned a few minutes later and stormed out.

"For da past three years, these tings do 'appen, but do you stop these tings from 'appening? NO! And you two, you're as bad as 'im!" Meg's eyes were searching the catwalks, and I knew she was searching for him. The Phantom of the Opera. Apparently, he was the ghost that terrorized the Opera Populaire, his specialty being small nuisances, or in this case, rather large ones. "Ma! Urgh! Until you stop dis tings from 'appening, dis thing does not 'appen!" She stalked of stage, shouting for her dog and her furs ad ranting incessantly about the 'accidents'. For such a drama queen, she was pretty smart to figure out that someone, or something, was trying to ruin her. A ghostly laugh sounded out from the shadows. A letter fell to the floor. Mme. Giry walked over to the suspicious envelope and picked up and with a small chuckle, opened it. I caught a glance at the seal shaped like a grotesquely twisted human skull.

The letter ordered André and Firmin to continue to leave Box Five empty for his personal use and that his salary was due. They were outraged that the Opera Ghost was referring to the Opera House as his, and even more so that he had a salary. The quarreled for a few minutes, giving Meg the perfect opportunity to gossip.

"My mother says that the theater never sells tickets for the seats in Box Five because it's his personal box! She says he watches every performance, but he is never seen, not by anyone. She even puts a program out for him and she says that _they always disappear!_" She was obviously ecstatic about this, but a stern look from her mother silenced her. "Of course," she added softly, "I don't think that she wanted me to tell you that." A dancer named Ernestine giggled.

"I think she heard!" The other ballerinas burst out in laughter. They reminded me of a flock of twittering birds like there were at home. Home. Where was home! For a scary second I didn't remember the university or any of my friends. It came back with a rush and I assured myself that I wouldn't forget again. Instantly sobered by this, I heard Meg say to Firmin and André, "Christine Daaé could sing it, sirs." I looked at her, amazed that she would betray me like this. Besides, how could she know about the lesson? The new memories didn't include telling her.

I wrinkled my brow as Mme. Giry pulled me forward. "Let her try, she had been taught by a genius. I gazed up at her, and knew from the look in her eyes that not only did she know that I was getting lessons, she knew who the teacher was.

"Who?" I asked eagerly. She shook her head firmly. The men shook their heads but gave me a chance. I took a deep breath and began to sing, remembering what my teacher had told me. Maybe he really was my Angel of Music. It was only too easy to believe.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly,  
when we've said goodbye.  
Remember me once in a while -  
please promise me you'll try.  
When you find that, once again, you long  
to take your heart back and be free -  
if you ever find a moment,  
spare a thought for me_

We never said our love was evergreen,  
or as unchanging as the sea -  
but if you can still remember  
stop and think of me . . .

Think of all the things  
we've shared and seen -  
don't think about the way things  
might have been . . .

Think of me, think of me waking,  
silent and resigned.  
Imagine me, trying too hard  
to put you from my mind.  
Recall those days  
look back on all those times,  
think of the things we'll never do -  
there will never be a day,  
when I won't think of you . . ."

To my amazement, I brought a tear to Firmin's eye. "Yes, yes," he said. "It worries me, her lack of experience, but I think she will do for tonight. Happy that I had pleased him, I allowed myself to be surrounded by the squealing ballerinas. Mme. Giry came to my rescue, telling everyone that costume arrangements must be made. I allowed myself to be shepherded off to get Carlotta's larger costumes fixed to fit my much smaller frame.

"So much talent, from a chorus girl," André murmured on my way out, "who knew?" The next few hours were a blur as I was measured, fitted and had my vocal range tested. We went through several more rehearsals, stopping only for lunch, and by noon I had stage fright. What if the audience hated me? Or worse, what if I messed up and my teacher was watching, just out of sight in the shadows?


	7. Chapter 6

I took a deep breath before stepping out on stage. There were a few murmurs from the audience about 'the new girl', and I suddenly felt the urge to please them all. I began my aria again.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly,  
when we've said goodbye.  
Remember me once in a while -  
please promise me you'll try.  
When you find that, once again, you long  
to take your heart back and be free -  
if you ever find a moment,  
spare a thought for me_

We never said our love was evergreen,  
or as unchanging as the sea -  
but if you can still remember  
stop and think of me . . .

Think of all the things  
we've shared and seen -  
don't think about the way things  
might have been . . .

Think of me, think of me waking,  
silent and resigned.  
Imagine me, trying too hard  
to put you from my mind.  
Recall those days  
look back on all those times,  
think of the things we'll never do -  
there will never be a day,  
when I won't think of you . . ."

Raoul was up in a box with Firmin and André. He clapped and my heart swooned. He was singing something, but I couldn't make out the words. The piano solo ended and I began my final phrase.

"_Flowers fades,  
The fruits of summer fade,  
They have their seasons, so do we  
but please promise me, that sometimes  
you will think of me_!"

The audience exploded with applause, and I felt myself turning red. Meg smiled at me from the right wing. I curtsied and exited stage left. She ran over to me and gave me a hug. "You were splendid!" I ran away as soon as the show was over. I wanted to be alone, and I knew just where to go: the shrine.

I lit the candles and wondered that if my father was the same in both worlds. I wished that he hadn't died here too. I would have loved to me him in person, finally. I started to cry. What would he think of all this, me traveling to the past and singing like this? I knew he would be proud, but he would also be worried about me, I think. I missed him, and I hardly remembered Mum. The haunting voice lilted into the room. "_Bravi, bravi, bravissimi_!" he sung. I knew it was the teacher and I jumped up, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead I heard Meg running down the stone steps, singing.

"_Christine, Christine_."

"_Christine_," he called. Meg entered the room with a soft smile and began to sing.

"_Where in the world have you been hiding  
Really, you were perfect  
I only wish I knew your secret  
Who is your great tutor_,"

I grinned at her and told her the story about my father and the Angel of Music for the first time. "Meg, when my father lay dying, he promised that he would send me his Angel of Music when he was in heaven. After he died and I came to here to live, I have always heard the voice in my head, and I don't know if it's him, but now he's starting to teach me to sing."

"But Christine, do you really believe that?"

"Did you hear me sing tonight? 6 months ago I couldn't sing like that. And now after just a few lessons, I can. If it's not an Angel of Music, then what is it?" She looked skeptical, so I started to sing.

"_Father once spoke of an angel  
I used to dream he'd appear  
Now as I sing, I can sense him  
And I know he's here  
Here in this room he calls me softly  
Somewhere inside hiding  
Somehow I know he's always with me  
He, the unseen genius_,"

She sang back.

"_Christine, you must have been dreaming  
Stories like this can't come true  
Christine, you are talking in riddles  
And it's not like you_,"

She seemed to be sincerely worried about me. I heard his voice in my head again, echoing. _Bravi, bravi, bravissimi_. It scared me.

"_Angel of Music  
Guide and guardian  
Grant to me your glory_,"

She shook her head.

"_Who is this angel  
This..._"

We started singing together, I sung higher and she sank lower, creating harmony as she blew out the candles in my shrine and started leading me toward my dressing room. The very dressing room that I had received my lessons in.

"_Angel of Music  
Hide no longer  
Secret and strange angel_,"

"_He's with me even now_,"

"_Your hands are cold_,"

"_Your face, Christine, it's white_,"

"_It frightens me_,"

"_Don't be frightened_."

"Meg, I have to tell you something about my Angel of Music…"

"What?" she looked at me anxiously.

"It's just that he's…" Mme. Giry stormed down the hall.

"Meg Giry, you are a dancer, are you not? You were all terrible tonight! Back to the stage! We must practice before the next show! Such a disgrace, all of you, my goodness!" Meg waved at me before running down the hall to meet the other dancers. Mme. Giry turned to face me before hobbling after her. "He is very pleased with you, Christine. Don't doubt that." Then she walked down the hall.

I ran back to my dressing room and shut the door. I took comfort of the soft yellow glow of the candles and the room was once again full of sweet smelling roses. I inhaled the scent and sighed, sitting down at the vanity. There was a single knock on the door before it opened. "Little Lotte let her mind wander: Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins of shoes, or of riddles of frocks,"

"Raoul," I smiled, "Those picnics in the attic,"  
"Or of chocolates?"

"Father playing the violin,"

"As we read to each other dark stories of the North,"

"No - what I love best, Lottie said, is when I'm asleep in my bed and _the Angel of Music sings songs in my head_!"

"_The Angel of Music sings songs in my head_!"

"Oh, Christine, you sang like an angel tonight. I thought I'd never hear your voice again." I couldn't help but think of Hunter. He was just like Raoul.

"Oh, Raoul, when my father lie on his deathbed, he promised me that he would send me his Angel of Music. And I have been visited Raoul, I have!"

"Oh, no doubt of it. And now, we go to supper." It was obvious that he was just pretending to listen to me about my angel.

"NO!" The voice returned and my eyes grew wide with fear.

"What was that?" asked Raoul. I had heard it loud and clear.

"Raoul, the Angel is very strict, and I don't think-"

"Well I'll return you by curfew." He laughed.

"Raoul-"

"I'll get my carriage ready. Come now, you must change your dress. Two minutes, Little Lotte!"

"Raoul!" I tried desperately one last time before sighing. I really would like to go with him. He was so gentle and kind, and even though he didn't believe me, he humoured me, and besides I would love to see old Paris through the eyes of someone else. I looked out the window and watched Raoul readying the horses. I walked over to the closet and selected a simple dress, wondering if I should choose something nicer. I reached for a light green dress, but suddenly, all the candles went out and I heard the door lock, leaving me shrouded in darkness.

"Raoul?" I called, but there was no reply, save the strange humming that lingered in the air. What was that? I ran around from door to door, trying to open one, but they were all locked. The mirror suddenly turned to mist, or so it seemed. It frothed out into the room, licking my arms and legs. "Hello?" I called. There was a low rumbling before a reply was half sung, half shouted at me.

"_INSOLENT BOY, THIS SLAVE OF FASHION, BASKING IN __YOUR __GLORY_!" I gasped. It was him. "_IGNORANT FOOL! THIS BRAVE YOUNG SUITOR, SHARING IN __MY__ TRIUMPH_!" Terrified, I completely abandoned all thoughts of going to dinner with Raoul. If he dropped backdrops on people casually, what was he like when he was angry? Besides, if he didn't want me to go, he must have had a good reason, so I apologized. As curious as I was about Raoul, that feeling was multiplied ten times over about this man.

"_Angel! I hear you! Speak, I listen ... stay by my side, guide me!_ _Angel, my soul was weak - forgive me ... enter at last, Master!_"_  
_"_Flattering child, you shall know me ,see why in shadow I hide!_"

"_Look at your face in the mirror - I am there inside!_"

"_Angel of Music! Guide and guardian! Grant to me your glory! Angel of_

_Music! Hide no longer! Come to me, strange angel!_"

He answered me with his strange chant. I couldn't help but succumb. It was like a dream. I didn't think that I was walking toward danger."_I am your Angel of Music! Come to me_, _Angel of Music_!" Once again he extended his glove, and once again I hesitated before taking it. Raoul was pounding on the door, demanding to know who was in here. I took the hand just as Raoul broke through the lock. He didn't see me step through the mirror. All he found was an empty dressing room. I watched him from the other side of the mirror that was a window, and I felt a little nervous- how long had this man been watching? I started to sing.

"_In sleep he sang to me,_

_in dreams he came, _

_that voice which calls to me,_

_and speaks my name. _

_And do I dream again, _

_for now I find _

_The Phantom of the Opera is there _

_inside my mind_!"

That's when I realized that this man was indeed the Phantom, for who else could walk through mirrors and become nothing but a shadow? He answered me in song, of course.

"_Sing once again with me, our strange duet.  
My power over you grows stronger yet  
And though you turn from me to glance behind  
The Phantom of the Opera is there  
Inside your mind_!"

We walked through passages that I realized to be catacombs. Some tunnels were neat and tidy and lined with golden candelabras, but yet others were lined with decaying heaps of bones. He helped me onto a horse as black as night and I speculated how the horse survived underground. He led the horse loosely by its reins, but it seemed to have a pretty good sense of where it was going. I once again ventured out in song.

"_Those who have seen your face_,_  
Draw back in fear_,_  
I am the mask you wear- _" 

He once again answered me in his rich tenor that made my heart stop. I wished he would never stop singing to me.

"_It's me they hear_..."

We sung together, creating perfect harmony.

"_Your/My spirit and my/your voice in one combined  
The Phantom of the Opera is there  
Inside my/your mind_!"

Eerie voices wafted down through the tunnel, and I began to doubt my sanity for what must be the one hundredth time today. There was nobody in sight. "_He's there, the phantom of the opera_!" I echoed them.

"_He's there, the Phantom of the Opera_!"

"_Beware, the Phantom of the Opera_!"

The Phantom once again sung, cutting off the voices. "_In all your fantasies, you always knew__, __that man and mystery_ . . ."

"_Were both in you_!" I loved singing with him. It made me soar on the inside, and our words vibrated and echoed through these ancient tunnels as we went deeper and deeper beneath the earth. The air began to grow colder and he took of his cloak and wrapped it around me as soon as I began to shiver.

"_And in this labyrinth, where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is there/here inside your/my mind_ . . ." I fingered the cloak, trying to place the fabric. I had never felt anything like it before. It was thick but light, not itchy but not completely soft either…and once again he was ordering me to sing, just like he had in my lessons previously.

"Sing, my Angel of Music!"

"_He's there, the Phantom of the Opera_!"

"Sing, Sing!" I faded into a high pitched solo that echoed and swirled in the cavern we were entering, rebounding and hitting me in the ears. He gently helped me off the horse and into a gondola-like boat that he manned.

"Sing for me! Sing, my Angel of Music!" I continued my descant as we crossed a lake covered in thick mist, and I didn't dare touch the dark water. Maybe I was seeing things, but it looked like there were people in it. Candles rose out of the water, amazingly aflame, and I wondered if we were crossing water. It glowed an unusual shade of blue-green, and I decided that I was not going to touch it, as tempting as it was. "SING FOR ME!" the mist cleared and I saw where we were headed.

And let me tell you, I very nearly fainted. 


	8. Chapter 7

The boat stopped at a small beach of black sand. It led to a floor of yellow stone. In one corner of the island was an enormous pipe organ. Yellowed pieces of parchment with melodies hastily scrawled on them littered the ground. I picked one up and hummed the melody. There was a desk with more music being held down by a set of heavy silver scales. Stubs of candles were scattered about, and mirrors and curtains lined the walls. A doorway led off into a bedroom that held a magnificent bed was on my right, and on my left a hallway.

It looked like a lavishly furnished basement, except for the lake in the middle of the floor. I turned around and the Phantom was waiting for me. "What is this place?" I asked, glancing up at the ceiling of rock above us.

"_I have brought you_, _to the seat of sweet music's throne_. _To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music, music_. _You have come here, for one purpose and one alone_, _since the moment I first heard you sing_, _I have needed you with me_, _to serve me_, _to sing_, _for my music_, _my music_." So that was why he had brought me here. He needed a muse! Someone to test out his melodies for him. I was flattered, but also still creeped out by the fact that he had been watching me for who knows how long.

He began to sing a beautiful song that seemed to be a lullaby. I stifled a yawn and listened to his beautiful falsetto.

"_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_,_  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_,_  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses_…__

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor,_  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender_,_  
Turn your face away from the garish light of day_,_  
Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light_,_  
And listen to the music of the night_…__

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!_  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before_!_  
Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar_!_  
And you'll live as you've never lived before_!__

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you,_  
Hear it, feel it secretly posses you_,_  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness that you know you cannot fight_,_  
The darkness of the music of the night_!__

Let your mind start to journey through a strange new world,_  
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before_!_  
Let your soul take you where you long to be_,_  
Only then can you belong to me_.__

Floating, folding, sweet intoxication,_  
Touch me, trust me savor each sensation_!_  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write_,_  
The power of the music of the night_."

He started to lead me toward the bedroom, probably sensing my exhaustion. We passed a doorway that held a mannequin of me wearing a wedding dress. Wondering exactly what the Phantom's reason for bringing me here was, I fainted in fright and shock. I felt him catch me before the world went darker than it already was. I felt myself be set down on a soft surface and I let myself fall asleep. I think he sang to me before leaving. "_You alone can make my song take flight_._ Help me make the music of the night_!"

I had vivid dreams about being taken to an underground world in my sleep. The man from the past was singing to me, and I saw myself in a wedding dress in a mirror. I screamed and the dream shifted. Hunter was knocking on the door of my shared bedroom with a bouquet of roses behind his back. When I opened the door, the man snuck up behind him and stabbed him in the back. Then he took me and pulled me through the mirror.

I woke up breathless, and I was confronted by a new problem-where was I? I was lying in a bed dressed with a comforted made up of deep red, purple and blue velvet. There was lots of pillows, all covered just as lavishly, but I wasn't under the covers. Instead I was wrapped in a large black cloak. I sat up and looked around. Some sort of see-through curtain was separating the bed from another larger room. My dream came back to me. I was in the underground world!

Last nights events came back to me in a rush. And for a minute, I wondered about the second dream. Who was the boy in the door of that unfamiliar room? With a volt after a few minutes, I realized that it was Hunter. Why was I forgetting the real world? I got up out of bed and folded the cloak awkwardly. There was a nightstand with a music box sitting on it. Under closer examination, I realized that there was monkey dressed in Persian robes holding a pair of mini crash symbols on top of it. I laughed before noticing a large tasseled cord just a few meters away.

I pulled it down and the curtains rose. I walked into the passageway that led into the room with the organ in it and shivered. It was so cold down here! CRASH! Something fell over in the other room. BANG! CRASH! It sounded like the Phantom was throwing things around. I peered around the corner and my suspicions were confirmed. A broken vase was on the floor, right next to a splintered metronome. I wondered if this was all some freakishly long dream, the kind that you just couldn't wake up from. I began to sing.

"_I remember there was mist_, _swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake_." He turned around."_There were candles all around, and on the lake there was a boat, and in the boat there was a man_!" I definitely had his attention now. He looked like he had been writing a piece of music. "_Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?_" I walked over to him. There was a bottle of ink spilled across the desk. He picked it up and moved it. Quick as a flash, I had the mask off his face.

It was terrible! Half of his skin was mottled and red, and it was twisted and deformed in others. It looked like half of his face had been burned off and refastened crookedly. He pushed me down to the ground and I fell into the organ painfully. He ran over to the mirrors and looked at himself for an instant before covering them. He came back over to me.

"_Damn you!  
You little prying Pandora!  
You little demon  
is this what you wanted to see?  
Curse you!  
You little lying Delilah!  
You little viper  
Now you cannot ever be free!_

Damn you...  
Curse you...

Stranger than you dreamt it  
Can you even dare to look  
or bare to think of me:  
this loathsome gargoyle, who burns in Hell,  
but secretly yearns for heaven,  
secretly... secretly...  
Christine...

Fear can turn to love - you'll learn to see  
to find the man behind the monster:  
this repulsive carcass, who seems a beast  
but secretly dreams of beauty,  
secretly... secretly...  
Oh, Christine..."

Horrified at what I had just done, I handed him his mask. There was an aching pain in my shoulder. He took it and rather calmly returned it to his face. "Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you." Then he offered his hand to pull me up. I very shakily took it. The blood rushed to my head and I fell back over again. "Ohh…" I moaned. I saw the alarm in his eyes. He picked me up and carried me back to the bed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He put me under the covers this time and pulled down the curtains before he left.

"No," I called after him. He turned.

"Yes?"

"It's me who should be sorry. I shouldn't taken off your mask," I wondered what his name was.

"Erik," he offered. So that was his name! I guess I had to pull off his mask and be knocked to the floor to be on a first name basis with him. "Don't be sorry Christine, I am an uncontrollable monster."

"No, you're not." I crossed my arms. "Monsters don't teach people to sing and tuck them into bed." I blushed. He started to walk down the hall again. "Your face isn't that bad!" I called. It really wasn't. I had seen worse at the hospitals back in…back where? Maybe it had been a dream of the future.

"Don't lie, Christine." He returned to his organ. I wondered about the dream of the future again before realizing that I was forgetting the real world again. I had to return before I forgot it forever! I tried to get up to tell Erik that he had to take me back, but I just sank back into bed and moaned. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, my head hurt way too much to do anything.

I tried quizzing myself about the real world. I remembered Maggie, she had gone crazy. What color had her eyes been again? And Genevieve, what did she look like again. I could almost hear her voice, asking me where I was, saying she was going to call the police if I didn't come out of hiding. Wait, I really was hearing her voice! I closed my eyes and concentrated on the world that I really lived in. I couldn't remember what my room looked like, but one place stood out in my mind. The library. All of the sudden, I remembered Hunter and our date on Friday. What day was it? I almost had forgotten Hunter!

The next thing I knew, I was standing on front of the campus library. My head throbbed like heck and I had to lean up against the cool stone. "Hey there, sweet thing." I looked up. Hunter came around the corner. He was wearing an Aerosmith t-shirt and jeans.

"Oh, hi," I said weakly. He walked over to me and frowned.

"Christine, what's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost!" If only he knew the irony in that.

"My head hurts, that's all. I hit it when I fell over." Boy, was that an understatement.

"And you didn't tell me?" he looked hurt. "You could've called me to postpone the date. You don't look like you should be up and about; in fact, I'm taking you to see a doctor. I think you might have gotten a concussion."

"Hunter, don't, you don't have to," I tried to resist, but he picked me up and started carrying me to his car.

"No, I do, because if I don't nobody's going to." We got a few odd looks from students milling around the campus. I blushed.

"Hunter, put me down. It's embarrassing."

"No way, I don't think that you can walk on your own." Three hours later, I was back in my bed, nursing a moderate concussion. "You need to take it easy, okay?" he said. Mme. Hearst looked disapproving of having a boy in the girl's dormitories, but she took it with grace.

"Exactly," she said. "There is no way that you will be performing in the performances tomorrow."

"But-" I started.

"No." Hunter looked at me. "Mme. Porter can spare you. You're only a chorus girl and dancer, Christine, not a major role." Ouch, that stung. Mme. Hearst scowled at him before turning to me.

"I'm very sorry, Mlle. Daaé. There will be more chances to be in performances. As for you, Mr. Lawson, I think we'd better let her get some of that rest that you mentioned," she said knowingly.

"Okay. See you, Christine." I lay back in bed and cried. So that was what Hunter though of me. _Mme. Porter can spare _you. _You're just a chorus girl and dancer, Christine, not a major role_. I wondered if I was 'just a girlfriend' as well. I thought back to something Maggie had told me. "There's only one thing guys want us girls for in college, and let me tell you, it's not to have an honest and happy relationship." I cried into the pillows. No, she had to be wrong. Hunter was just being this cold because he was worried about me. Yes, that had to be it.

For the next ten days, my food was brought to me on trays and my homework was delivered by Genevieve. She wanted to know how I was doing, and where I had disappeared to before. She looked increasingly disappointed every time that I told her that I couldn't remember. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Nothing, not even a glimmer of recognition about it? Maybe you were kidnapped and your kidnappers knocked you over the head! I've heard about medicines that can help you remember things, maybe you could-"

"Genevieve, just leave me alone, okay? I told you, I don't remember!"

"Sorry." She left quickly. Hunter didn't visit me at all, save for the next Friday night which had to have been the worst night of my life. He snuck in through the fire escape.

"How are you doing?" He sat down on the edge of my bed.

"Better. Why haven't who visited me at all?" I pursed my lips waiting for an answer. He shrugged.

"That's kind of why I came. Look can we talk?" Oh no, not this after everything else! Why? Why oh why? "…and that's why I think we should take you to a specialist. I'm really worried about you." I tuned back in and sighed with relief. So it wasn't THAT conversation. He leaned over to kiss me, but I turned my head. I refused to cry in front of him.

"So you think that I'm psychotic," I said. He got up and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No…Look, I love you, Christine. You're beautiful, and sweet, and funny, but lately you've been acting, well, strange, to say the least. Talking about nonsense in your sleep, and daydreaming constantly. It's just not like you. If there's something that you want to tell me, you can. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Well…" I considered the consequences of me telling him the truth. I decided to tell him the abridged version. "You see, the other night a stranger came into my room, and I found out that he is a memory, or a ghost, you might say, from the past. This college used to be a famous opera, you know, and he took me through that mirror over there into the world that he knew, or knows, rather…" I must've talked for at least an hour. Hunter listened politely until I was finished, and he was frowning as if he was thinking deeply.

"Christine, this settles it, you have gone completely mad. I think that you should get some more rest, maybe having illusions is a reaction to a severe concussion, I think I read that somewhere." Tears sprang up in my eyes.

"You don't believe me?" I asked in a wavering voice.

"Uh, no." He walked over to the mirror and put his hand to the cool glass. "See? Solid glass, no magical tunnel, and no phantoms." I wished that Erik would show himself, just to prove me right, but he didn't. "Is this some sort of wild story to let me know that you're seeing someone else?" he blurted out suddenly.

"Of course not!"

"Right. I think I'll just go to my room now. Good night, Christine." I waited until he was gone before burrowing into bed and crying my eyes out. I just wanted to get away from all this drama.

As if on cue, Erik appeared in the mirror. I got up and walked over to it. Well, at least my head didn't hurt anymore. "You're taking quite a risk, you know. The other girls could walk in at any moment."

"I'll take my chances. You have to choose, Christine."

"I don't understand."

"This world or the past. You cannot continue to live in both. It will keep destroying you mentally and physically until you die from the stress of it all. Besides, the mirror's magic is wearing thin. I don't believe that it would be able to take you back to this world again if you come with me."

"I need more time!"

"You have none. This is the time for you to choose!"

"But won't I miss everybody here if I go with you to the past?"

"Your memories will disappear over time." There were footsteps in the hallway. "Make haste!" Hadn't I just been wishing to go to his world? But what about everyone here? What about Maggie and Genevieve? What about- I wouldn't let myself say Hunter.

"What if the people in this world notice that I'm gone?"

"Let them speculate. Your friend with the red hair has some interesting ideas." I blushed. So he had been listening! The door opened just as I took his hand and entered the tunnel behind the mirror for what would be the last time.


	9. Chapter 8

Once again I experienced the horrible whirlwind feeling that I felt the previous times that I had been through the mirror, but this time it mingled with a feeling of extreme apprehension. When we finally appeared in the dressing room, I crumpled to my knees and sobbed. Erik did not offer his condolences. Instead, he went to the chair at the dressing table and sat down, holding his hand to his head. I sniffed and wiped the tears away from my face. This had been what I'd wanted, right? This is what I'd traded my old life for. I decided right then and there that I would write down everything about my past life, so I wouldn't forget it, but when I tried to remember the little details from my childhood and college life, I found that I couldn't. It was as if a tidal wave had washed over my memories and taken them all with it, except for a few very powerful ones. My head throbbed as I struggled to hold on to them. My father's last words to me, Hunter's last conversation with me…Hunter! What would he think when I was discovered missing? Would he be distraught, would he not care, or would he understand, finally, that I had told him the truth?

I tried to imagine the look on Mme. Hearst's face when she discovered that I had disappeared without a trace. Let Hunter tell them that I had run away to avoid counseling. Genevieve would believe it, at least. Erik stood up and brushed of his coat. "Are you done pitying yourself?" I frowned, wondering why he was acting so cross.

"Yes," I said cautiously, not knowing what to expect.

"For the love of all that is good, why do they keep that insufferable woman around?"

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, offended.

"Not you, Carlotta Giudicelli, that awful diva with the screechy voice! At this very moment in time, she is attempting to shatter the windows of the opera house, can't you hear her?" I listened closely, and what at first I had thought to be the squeaking of pipes was indeed her voice, mingled with many others. It actually appeared to be getting closer…

_Prima Donna the world is at your feet  
A nation waits, and how it hates to be cheated!  
Still, the driest throat will reach the highest note  
Sing Prima Donna  
Once more!_

The door knob began to turn. Erik left a letter on the dressing table, grabbed me, and pulled me into the passage behind the mirror all in one swift motion. Carlotta entered the dressing room, wearing a ridiculous, large pink dress decorated in bows of all shapes and colors. There was a wig of curly white hair, two and a half feet tall, resting on her head, decorated with more pink bows. Her makeup was not flattering; in fact, it made her look like a clown. "Erik, your letter-" he clamped a large hand over my mouth. He motioned for me to be silent and watch. Carlotta saw the letter and immediately snatched it up. "Carlotta Giudicelli," she read. She turned the envelope over and ripped open the seal. Whatever the note said, it frightened her, because she screamed aloud and fell to the floor. Monsieur Reyer and Monsieur Lefèrve rushed in, calling for help. I turned away from the scene at hand to look at Erik. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't quite frowning either. It was more of a devious smirk spread across his face. I shivered.

"Come, Christine," he whispered into my ear, "it won't be long before we are discovered and our clever hiding place is ruined. Instead of taking me to his home across the shore of the lake, he walked me through a series of tunnels that were new to me, twisting and turning every way possible behind and below the walls of the opera house. When we finally came out through an unobtrusive door (that I would not have seen, save for him opening it), we were in one of the hallways behind the stage. I was familiar with this particular corridor; it was where the other dancers and I waited for our cue to come on stage. I turned around to thank him, but he was already gone, mostly likely the way he came.

I ran to the wall that we had come through, searching for an outline that might reveal the door, but I could find none. Shivering, I turned and ran down the corridor and up three flights of stairs, heading toward the room that I called my own. When I reached the familiar wooden door engraved with flowers, I was relieved to find that it opened without its normal conspicuous creak. Expecting to find no one in the shared dormitory, I plopped down on my bed without looking up, just hoping for some time to catch up on my sleep and mull over the events of the day. "I knew you'd show up eventually!" Meg was dressed in her costume for the play that was to be performed tonight, _Il Muto_ (I don't know where I learned that, but I knew it was right. I jumped up startled.

"Meg!"

"We have to go down, the show starts in less than an hour, and everyone is frantic with worry, trying to figure out where you are. You can tell me on the way down. She thrust the pageboy costume into my hands and pulled me out of the room and back down to the dressing room behind the stage. "So, where have you been? The rumor is that you ran off with a very handsome gentleman, and that you have been off, sleeping with him in some distant inn!"

"Meg!" She shrugged.

"I'm just telling you what I heard!"

"For your information, I…" I faltered. Could I trust her? According to my new set of memories, she had been my best friend for years, and I could tell her anything, but in reality, I had known her for just a few days, and I just didn't know… "I have been off visiting a friend. A very good friend."

"Is he a gentleman friend?"

"Yes, he is."

"Oh!" she squealed with delight. "Who is he? Is he handsome? Is he rich? Is it Raoul? Oh it is, isn't it?" I wrinkled my brow in confusion.

"No," I said carefully, "it isn't. Has he been missing for a few days too?" We reached the dressing room for the dancers. She pursed her lips.

"Yes, that's the strange part. He disappeared right around the time you did, that's why I thought…" I grinned.

"It might've been him."

"Christine!" We walked into the room. The other dancers squealed in delight at the sight of us, and they immediately asked a whirlwind of questions.

"Who was he?"

"Where were you?"

"Did you sleep with Raoul?"

"Did you run away and get caught?"

"Where did you go?"

"Are you ready for _Il Muto_?"

"Do you know your part?"

"Christine, thank god you're back!" Mme. Giry walked into the dressing room, and the questions stopped and an awkward silence descended upon the room. She grabbed me by the arm. Come with me child, we must let the managers know that you have returned so they can stop fretting about their income." She led me up to the stage. "M. Reyer!" She called him over. "Mlle. Daaé has returned, and I assure you she is quite ready for her part." Within minutes, I got dressed, had my makeup done, and was positioned onstage, just in time for Carlotta to hiss at me. "Remember, child, your part is _silent_!" She smiled as the curtain went up and one of the men onstage began to sing.

_They say that this youth has set my Lady's heart aflame!  
_

_His Lordship, sure, would die of shock  
_

_His Lordship is a laughing-stock!  
_

_Should he suspect her, God protect her!  
_

_Shame! Shame! Shame!  
This faithless lady's bound for HADES!  
Shame! Shame! Shame!  
_

Carlotta answered,

_Serafimo - your disguise is perfect.  
Who can this be? _

Piangi began to sing,

_Gentle wife, admit your loving husband.  
My love - I am called to England on affairs of State,  
And must leave you with your new maid.  
Though I'd happily take the maid with me.  
_

_The old fool's leaving!  
Serafimo - away with this pretence!_

She ripped of my skirt. I blushed for the audience.

_You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence!_

I pretended to kiss her, shielded by her fan. She scowled at me._  
_

_Poor fool, he makes me laugh!  
Haha, Haha...  
Time I tried to get a better half!  
Poor fool, he doesn't know!  
Hoho, Hoho...  
If he knew the truth, he'd never, ever go!_

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?" Erik's voice boomed

from high above us. I gasped.

"He's here: the Phantom of the Opera ..." Meg whispered.

"It's him," I started. Carlotta rapped my shoulder with her fan._  
_ "Your part is silent, little toad!" she shouted.

"A toad, Madame? Perhaps it is you who are the toad ..." he laughed a very evil sounding laugh, and a door slammed high above the chandelier. Joseph Buquet went up to investigate. M. Reyer waved his baton wildly, encouraging Carlotta to resume singing. 

_Serafimo, away with this pretence!  
You cannot speak, but kiss me in my ...  
Poor fool, he makes me laugh -  
Hahahahaha! _

Instead of hitting the last note, a horrible croak emitted from her lips and the audience gasped. She shook it off and tried again.

_Poor fool_…CROAK! CROAK! CROAK!

The audience laughed at her, obviously not quite sure if this was part of the play or not. Poor Carlotta, she began to cry at the injustice of it and ran off the stage in a huff. I was pushed back behind the curtain with the others as M. Andre made it to the front of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize, the performance will continue in ten minutes' time ..." Someone grabbed me and pushed me toward Andre, " ... when the role of the Countess will be played by Miss Christine Daaé!" He grinned sheepishly at me, and I smiled faintly at the audience. Andre was sweating profusely. He wiped his brow and continued. "Meanwhile, we'd like to give you the ballet from Act Three of tonight's opera." The audience applauded, and the ballerinas rushed onstage with their sheep. M. Reyer began to conduct the orchestra in the pit. I was ushered backstage and Carlotta's costume was thrust into my arms. The ballerinas began to dance, and everything seemed fine, except for the fact that it was horribly out of order.

A few minutes into the ballet, a chorus of screams broke out in the audience, and I rushed onstage to see what had happened. Joseph Buquet was hanging over the stage, very clearly dead, and very clearly not part of the play. And it was also very clear to me that the rope that he was hanging from was fashioned into a Punjab lasso, which meant that no one, not even the old fly system manager, was safe from the Phantom of the Opera.


	10. Chapter 9

I blanched. Joseph Buquet was a known storyteller, and drunk, but he had never hurt a fly. Why would Erik kill him? I grabbed my red cloak and ran up the iron steps to the roof. Raoul was following me, of all people. "Are you alright?" he asked concernedly.  
"Raoul, we're not safe here!" M. Andre began shouting to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your seats. Do not panic! It was an accident ... simply an accident!" He didn't sound too sure of that to me. He sang to me as I rushed up the stairs. "_Why have you brought me here_?"

"_Can't go back there_!"  
"_We must return_!"  
"He'll kill you! _His eyes will find us there_!"

"_Christine, don't say that_."  
"_Those eyes that burn_!"

"_Do__n't even think _it!"

"_And if he has to kill a thousand men_,"

"_Forget this waking nightmare_..."

"_The Phantom of the Opera will kill_..."

"_This phantom is a fable_. _Believe me_!"

"..._and kill again_!"

"_There is no Phantom of the Opera_…"

"_My God_, _who is this man_..." we sang together.

"..._who hunts to kill_?"

"..._this mask of death_?"

"_I can't escape from him_..."

"_Whose is this voice you hear_..."

"..._I never will_!"

"..._with every breath_?"

"_And in this labyrinth, where night is blind_,_ the Phantom of the Opera is here/there inside my/your mind_..."

"_There is no Phantom of the Opera_..."

_ Raoul, I've been there  
to his world of unending night  
To a world with the daylight dissolves into darkness_...  
_darkness_...  
_Raoul_, _I_'_ve seen him_!  
_Can I ever forget that sight_?  
_Can I ever escape from that face_?  
_So distorted, deformed_, _it was hardly a face  
in that darkness_...  
_darkness_...  
_But his voice filled my spirit  
with a strange_, _sweet sound_...  
_In that night there was music in my mind_...  
_And through music my soul began to soar_!  
_And I heard as I_'_d never heard before_...  
_What you heard was a dream and nothing more_...

_Yet in his eyes  
all the sadness of the world  
Those pleading eyes,  
that both threaten and adore_

_Christine_...  
_Christine_...

"_Christine_..." Erik called. I jumped in fright, searching around like a frightened rabbit.

"What was that?" I whispered. Raoul gently put a finger to my lips and began to sing.

_No more talk of darkness_,  
_Forget these wide_-_eyed fears_,  
_I_'_m here, nothing can harm you_,  
_my words will warm and calm you_,  
_Let me be your freedom_,  
_let daylight dry your tears_.  
_I_'_m here with you, beside you_,  
_to guard you and to guide you_...

_Say you love me every waking moment_,  
_turn my head with talk of summertime_...  
_Say you need me with you now and always_...  
_Promise me that all you say is true  
that's all I ask of you_

_Let me be your shelter  
let me be your light  
You're safe_, _No one will find you  
your fears are far behind you_... 

_All I want is freedom_,  
_a world with no more night_  
_and you_, _always beside me_, _to hold me and to hide me_... 

_Then say you_'_ll share with me  
one love, one lifetime  
let me lead you from your solitude_  
_Say you need me with you here_, _beside you_...  
_anywhere you go_, _let me go too_  
_Christine_, _that's all I ask of you_... 

_Say you_'_ll share with me one love_,_ one lifetime_..._  
say the word and I will follow you_... 

_Share each day with me_,  
_each night, each morning_... 

_Say you love me_...

_You know I do_...

_Love me_ - _that_'_s all I ask of you_  
_Anywhere you go let me go too  
Love me_ - _that_'_s all I ask of you_...

"_You_'_ll guard me, and you'll guide me_..." he twirled me in the air and kissed me. I kissed him back, savoring this sweet moment. The snow swirled around us as it fell, and the lights of the opera house illuminated the Parisian sky. The moment could not be more perfect, except for the fact that Raoul was kissing me again. We sang to each other as we ran down the metal staircase, as giddy as two young school children in love.

_Say you'll share with me one love_, _one lifetime_  
_say the word and I will follow you_  
_Share each day with me_,  
_each night_, _each morning_...

A crowd of anxious people met us at the bottom of the stairs. The ballerinas and chorus girls laughed, and Meg winked at me from afar. The policemen had arrived , anxious to find the murderer. _You won't find the murderer_, I thought apprehensively, _because he doesn't want to be found_. And, sadly, in the excitement of the moment, I became dizzy and the room began to spin, and I fell myself falling into a realm of darkness. 


	11. Chapter 10

(A dream)

_Hunter is leaning over me. I rub my eyes with my hands and try to figure out where I am. I realize with surprise that I am lying on my bed in the girl's dormitory. "Hunter?" I ask groggily. He looks relieved and scared at the same time. _

_ "Christine? Is that really you?" I stare at him, confused._

_ "Of course it's me. Who else would it be? And if you're here to recommend counseling, you can go right back to where you came from." He held his hands up in surrender and tentatively sat down on the edge of my bed._

_ "Relax. I…I ah, believe you. I just…it's a long story." I wrinkled brow._

_ "Oh?"_

_ "Yeah, you see, I'd been having some really weird dreams before, and I thought you were pulling my leg, that's all. I got nervous and freaked. What would you have done?" he asked defensively._

_ "For starters, not acted like a jerk and recommending counseling."_

_ "I'm really, really sorry Christine. Try to believe me." I sighed. Perhaps he was telling the truth, but did that mean that he had gone back in time as well? "Um, Christine?"_

_ "Yes?" He looked really creeped out._

_ "Are you, uh, dead?" I looked at him like he was crazy, which wasn't too far from the truth._

_ "Of course not! Why would you ask a thing like that?"_

_ "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're transparent and weightless?" I looked down and gasped. I lifted a very see-through hand and tried to pick up a pillow, but my hand went right through it._

_ "No!" I shouted. Hunter looked very alarmed. _

_ "Christine, what's happened to you?" I frowned at him, holding back tears._

_ "I told you before. I went through that mirror..." I pointed at the full length mirror in the corner._

_ "How can you go through a mirror?" He walked over to the mirror and put a hand to it. "See, it's solid as a rock." The mirror began to glow a ghostly blue, and he fell through, meeting what was on the other side. _

_ "Hunter!" I shouted._

_ "Christine!" I caught one last glimpse of his terrified face before he disappeared into the depths of the tunnel._

"Christine! Christine!" I groaned and opened my eyes. I was laying on the floor at the foot of the stairs, staring up at a crowd of police men and actors that were arranged in a semicircle around me. Raoul was clutching my hand anxiously, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Subconsciously, my eyes flicked to my hand, which was quite substantial.

"Raoul?" He looked at me with eyes full of worry.

"Oh thank God, Christine, I thought you were dead." He frowned. "It almost looked like you were fading away," he added in a hush. I tried to sit up but he pushed me back down. "NO!" he shouted, then looking at the crowd of people, he added sheepishly, "I mean, I don't think that you should be up walking around, that's all." He made a move to pick me up. I pushed his arm away.

"Raoul, I can walk. I didn't forget how when I fell."

"But your head..."

"It's fine, trust me." He shook his head.

"Just let me take you to your bed." I had no strength to fight him, and my head was throbbing, so I had to let myself be humiliated in front of all those people as he carried me to the dancer's dormitory. Looking up at him, I could have sworn that I was looking into Hunter's worried eyes, but I figured that I must be hallucinating. Unless my vision had been real, and then…

We reached the dormitory and he set me down on my bed, tucking me in under the covers. I felt like I was three. _My father used to tuck me in_, I thought, but I fought the memory. "Raoul?" He shushed me and gently kissed my forehead.

"Shh, Christine, just go to sleep, it'll be alright." I could have sworn that his brown coat and breeches turned into a pair of jeans and a rock t-shirt as he walked out…what was a t-shirt again? And what were the Rolling Stones? It sounded so familiar…

I fell into a deep sleep, trying to remember.

When I awoke the next morning, the sun had already started its journey. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. My head no longer ached, and I felt quite rested. Raoul was dozing off in a chair the was beside my bed. He was holding my hand, and it seems as if he'd been doing so all night. I leaned over and kissed him, my lips gently grazing his. He jumped up, startled. Then he saw me and smiled. "Good morning, Christine."

I smiled back at him. "Good morning, Raoul." I got up, pulling my robe around me. "You know," I said thoughtfully, "I don't think that boys are allowed in the girl's dormitory." I turned to find him grinning up at me. He pulled himself up and stood right in front of me. In some ways, he was still the little boy I left behind…dimples, a schoolboy grin, and that mischievous look in his eyes….and of course; he was still a full head taller than me.

I was filled with a lust, no, more of a _need_ to be as close to him as possible. He pulled me up against him, and we fell into my little bed, making the springs creak. He kissed me, much harder than he had last night…and his hands were tracing my face, and suddenly, I was on top of him, wondering if this was all happening too fast. Just then the dormitory door swung open and in walked Mme. Giry, cane and all. "a-HEM!" she called out and we jumped up, banging our heads together. "Monsieur, I know you are new to this business, but surely you must know that men are not allowed in the dancer's dormitories…" she tutted and hobbled over. "Come Christine, I have new exercises for you to do…_on pointe_." Surely she was kidding.

She wasn't. She pulled me out of the room, and I barely had time to grab my _pointe_ slippers and clothes before she yanked me out of the room, practically hissing at Raoul. I snuck one last glace at him, and he was sitting on my bed, grinning like a fiend, and his hair practically sticking up on end. For a moment, I saw Hunter there, and had to turn away so he wouldn't see the pain on my face.

While I am on the subject of pain…Mme. Giry seemed determined to work us ballerinas to death today. And she certainly was making it clear that she didn't approve of me being with Raoul, although I couldn't wager a guess as to why. We limped back up to our shared room, cursing out Mme. Giry behind her back and rubbing our aching feet. Even Meg wasn't as refined as she normally was.

"My God, did that woman really mother me?" she asked. "I think my toes are broken." A few girls tittered nervously, peering over their backs as if expecting Mme. Giry to come out of the shadows, waving her cane in our face.

I was searching the shadows too, but I was looking for him. If he was my father's spirit, my teacher, my angel, why did I feel so wrong pledging my love to Raoul?


	12. Chapter 11

When I awoke the next morning, the sun had already started its journey. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. My head no longer ached, and I felt quite rested. Raoul was dozing off in the chair that was beside my bed. He was holding my hand, and it seems as if he'd been doing so all night. I leaned over and kissed him, my lips gently grazing his. He jumped up, startled. Then he saw me and smiled. "Good morning, Christine."

I smiled back at him. "Good morning, Raoul." I got up, pulling my robe around me. "You know," I said thoughtfully, "I don't think that boys are allowed in the girl's dormitory." I turned to find him grinning up at me. He pulled himself up and stood right in front of me. In some ways, he was still the little boy I left behind…dimples, a schoolboy grin, and that mischievous look in his eyes….and of course; he was still a full head taller than me.

I was filled with a lust, no, more of a _need_ to be as close to him as possible. He pulled me up against him, and we fell into my little bed, making the springs creak. He kissed me, much harder than he had last night…and his hands were tracing my face, and suddenly, I was on top of him, wondering if this was all happening too fast. Just then the dormitory door swung open and in walked Mme. Giry, cane and all. "a-HEM!" she called out and we jumped up, banging our heads together. "Monsieur, I know you are new to this business, but surely you must know that men are not allowed in the dancer's dormitories…" she tutted and hobbled over. "Come Christine, I have new exercises for you to do…_on pointe_." Surely she was kidding.

She wasn't. She pulled me out of the room, and I barely had time to grab my pointe slippers and clothes before she yanked me out of the room, practically hissing at Raoul. I snuck one last glace at him, and he was sitting on my bed, grinning like a fiend, and his hair practically sticking up on end. For a moment, I saw Hunter there, and had to turn away so he wouldn't see the pain on my face.

While I am on the subject of pain…Mme. Giry seemed determined to work us ballerinas to death today. And she certainly was making it clear that she didn't approve of me being with Raoul, although I couldn't wager a guess as to why. We limped back up to our shared room, cursing out Mme. Giry behind her back and rubbing our aching feet. Even Meg wasn't as refined as she normally was.

"My God, did that woman really mother me?" she asked. "I think my toes are broken." A few girls tittered nervously, peering over their backs as if expecting Mme. Giry to come out of the shadows, waving her cane in our faces.

That night I sat by the window with my knees hugged tightly to my chest. I was staring at the remarkably full moon that was hanging so low in the Parisian sky. I longed to see Raoul again, and yet I still wanted to see Erik again too…Was my angel of music not my angel at all? Was it maybe my father? Or another man completely? Thoughts rushed through my head at tremendous speeds, until it finally hit me. Was it Erik that I was really in love with? Or was it Raoul?

The next thing I knew, Meg was shaking me awake in the morning, waving my pointe shoes in my face. "God, Meg," I muttered, rolling over. "Just five more minutes," I pleaded.

"Sure, if you would prefer it was my mother waking you up, smacking you senseless with her cane." I opened my eyes and watched her pantomime the event. With a mixture of a laugh and a groan, I was sitting up on my bed. Meg threw my clothes at my face with unnessacary force, giggling. "Come Christine, we'll be late." She turned to look out the window while I dressed hastily. I was still lacing up my shoes as we raced down the hallways.

"So," I said, out of breath as we reached the stage and swung our legs up on the bar behind the curtain. Some of the other girls rolled their eyes, but we all straightened out and became silent and focused as we heard a gnarled wooden cane hitting the stage. Meg and I frantically tried to slow our breathing.

"Such a disgrace! That's exactly what you all were last night. Practice, practice, and practice some more! Then maybe, we'll get a good review." Mme. Giry had clearly arrived. We passed her inspection as she walked down the line, smacking feet with her cane that weren't perfectly poised.

"So," Meg whispered quietly. "You weren't in bed last night. Were enjoying a late evening out with the Vicomte?" The other girls tensed, obviously listening. I blushed and whispered back a half-truth.

"No…something was keeping me up last night so I went to a different room to practice. Evangeline, the ballerina flanking me on my left side rolled her eyes.

"Right," she whispered. "Why would he sleep with you anyways?" That stung. I remained silent and focused on my warm-up stretching. Is that what everyone thought of me? That I wasn't worthy to sleep with Raoul? But worse, what if that was the truth? We had come close the other day, but we hadn't. I had thought that it was just too early. It would be wrong to be so intimate so soon, wouldn't it? Or was I just immature, as the other girls were suggesting.

Meg puffed out her cheeks and stuck out her tongue at Evangeline, making me smile. There was no way that I was too immature for Raoul. The time just wasn't right. Thinking of Raoul and our date tonight was all that kept me alive through the pirouettes and other horrors that Meg's mother had prepared for us for today. Even though I chimed in with Meg and all the other girls when we were mocking Mme. Giry, the truth is, I love her like a mother. She practically is my mother; she has cared for me like her own daughter since I was seven years old. I certainly considered Meg a sister. We smiled at each other as we crossed paths, twirling in the air.

There was an empty space where the chandelier had hung, and I frowned, recalling last night's strange turn of events. Why exactly had Erik tried to drop a chandelier on my head? And more importantly, why didn't I move. I knew that I was in love with Raoul. I was so in love with Raoul, that I had become blind to all other men…but one. When Erik is around, it's almost like I loose control of myself. And he's way too old for me. Raoul is just right for me, but when I'm around Erik…when I'm around Erik I can be myself. I don't have to pretend.

I tripped over my own feet while contemplating this, earning a frown from Mme. Giry. Why did I have a feeling that she knew so much more than she was telling. Who was Erik, anyways? I watched the empty theatre while we danced, hoping to catch a glimpse of a white mask, or a swish of a black cape. But there was nothing. In fact, besides Mme. Giry's instructions and the whispered complaints and gossip of the other girls, it was unusually quiet.

In fact, it was quiet for the next few days, which turned into weeks, which turned into months. I heard nothing from Erik. There were no more roses tied with black satin ribbons on my nightstand or dressing table. There were no more late night lessons in the depths of the opera house's basements, there were no more accidents. It was blissful, but I missed him. I also feared when he returned that his wrath would kill us all. I still don't know what made him angry enough to drop the chandelier.

One night, however, when Raoul and I were riding in a carriage around Paris, I figured it out. "Oh, oh my goodness," I exclaimed in a whisper. Raoul took my hand.

"What is it, Christine? You look as if you've just spotted a ghost."

"I believe I might have. It is nothing, Raoul." I faked a smile, and it was enough to melt the worried expression he had painted across his face.

"Mmm. I'm sure it was. So, Little Lotte, what would you care to eat for dinner on this fine evening?"

"Oh, I don't know. You choose." I sat back on the seat, hoping that my face hadn't gone completely ashen. Erik had heard Raoul and me that night, when we were with each other on the roof. After we had fled from…it pained me to think of it. After we had fled from the scene of Joseph's death. Poor Erik. I had made him think that I was his…and then I had given myself to Raoul. How had I managed to get myself twisted up in this awful mess?

We ended up going to our favorite restaurant, and while we were waiting for our food to arrive, we sat in silence, listening to the violins play. I was lost in my own swirling thoughts, and then I realized that I probably wasn't being good company. Then I realized something else: Raoul and I had been together for exactly six months now. Tomorrow was New Year's Eve. "Raoul," I began. He looked up from what he had been fiddling in with in his pocket.

"Yes?"

"We've been together for half of a year, to date." He smiled.

"I know. That's why I picked tonight…" he faltered off.

"That's why you picked tonight to do what?" I asked. He grinned, but he looked nervous at the same time. He got up from his chair and got down on one knee in front of me. My heart started to race. There was no way on this earth…

"That's why I picked tonight to ask you: will you be my wife, Christine?" I thought my heart was going to explode. Oh my Lord. He really was asking me to marry him. And now I had to choose. Raoul and a life without Erik? Or did I choose Erik and live a life without Raoul. "Well?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes I will be your bride, Raoul." He broke out into a huge smile, happier than I'd ever seen him. I smiled too, and he stood up and kissed me, right there in the restaurant. A few people even clapped. I kissed him back, hoping that I was doing the right thing.


	13. Chapter 12

Around what I figured to be midnight, the door creaked open and in walked a tall figure in a dark cloak that shielded his face, but I knew that the familiar white half mask was hiding under the dark fabric. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, but there was no fooling him. "_Christine_," he sang softly, his rich tenor reverberating in my ears. I rose slowly, as if in a dream, because for all I knew, I was. I pinched myself, but I didn't wake up. So I wasn't dreaming; Erik was really in my room at midnight.

"_Yes_?" I sang back. He extended a dark arm, and I reached out to grab it. His fingers, gloved in black leather, closed tightly around mine; they were so small in his hand.

"_Come_, _my angel_." So I followed him, letting him lead me down the twists and turns of the pitch black corridors. I knew the upper floors of the theater like I knew the back of my hand, but as he led me deeper and deeper into the basements and sub levels I became vulnerable to the dark. I once got the impression that I was standing over a large chasm that fell into the blackest pits of Hell, and the only thing keeping me from tumbling to my death was Erik's firm grip. My eyes never became quite as accustomed to the dark as his, but after what must have been an hour, I could begin to make out the protrusions in the wall, and make out large rocks on the ground, which Erik led me around.

I realized that we were deep in the catacombs, and I shuddered to think about what was crunching under my bare feet.

After the second time I cried out as a sliver of rock embedded itself into my foot, Erik swiftly scooped me up and carried me the rest of the way, much to my discomfort. I fought against him for a while, but eventually, I became cold and tired, and nestling myself in the warm crooks of his body didn't seem like too bad of an idea. If he ever tired of carrying me, he didn't show it.

Finally, we reached the shore of the lake, and I realized that we had come from the opposite direction this time. I was once again standing on the black beach where he had gently set me down, but this time I was looking out onto the lake that he had rowed us across the first time I had come here. I turned around. Erik was lighting the twisted candles with a swish of his hand. Not for the first time, I wondered if he was a magician of some sort. I had never been one to believe in magic, but the way he melted into walls and prowled the theater invisible made me wonder.

He saw me looking his way and beckoned me over. He sat at the organ, warming up. "Scales," he commanded. I looked at him, dumbfounded. The last time I had seen him, he had tried to drop a chandelier on me.

"Erik?" I asked. "Aren't you mad?" He looked at me, and I saw the anger in his eyes, but buried under it, all the sadness as well.

"Scales," he repeated. So I sang scales, hitting notes in a register that I didn't know I could. He nodded and was quiet for a moment. Then he pulled out a heavy looking leather bound book from under one of his stacks of papers. One of the loose ones fluttered to the ground. I bent down to pick it up for him, turning it over to see what it was.

My breath caught in my throat, drawn in charcoal on the paper was a likeness of me that was so perfect, I wondered if I was looking in a mirror. Every little detail on my face was there, my high cheekbones, the little smudge on my nose, and every line in my eyes. I had not posed for this. He had drawn it from memory. "It's beautiful," I whispered. He looked at the picture clutched in my hands and a small smile flickered across his lips before fleeting away.

"It's just…one of my sketches," he mumbled.

"Sketch? This is better done than many of the artists on the street can do, and that is their best work. This is…perfect."

"Thank you." He appeared to be lost in thought for a moment, and then he began pounding the keys on the organ, and then he grabbed a fairly empty piece of paper and began scribbling the likeness of the treble and base staffs before scrawling in the notes. I had him for a moment, but once again, I had lost him to his music. I sighed and set the picture down on top of the pile that it had been buried in. I frowned. Was it wrong to come here, was it wrong to come here and do this, now that I was bound to Raoul? It was just lessons, after all. I kept telling myself that it was just lessons, but I couldn't help myself from thinking that it _was _something more. I looked up and saw Erik was staring at me, confused. Then, seeming to remember something, he flipped open the big manuscript to a page near the middle. He glanced up at me and met my eyes, brown into blue. "Would you sing this?" He showed me the page he had flipped to.

It was the first time he had _asked_ me to do something. I nodded and looked at it. It was a piece of sheet music, much neater drawn than what he had just done. "It doesn't have a title," I observed. It wasn't finished either, the notes and words only went to the middle of the second page. He nodded and pointed at the first note. I took the hint and hummed it, preparing to sing. _Aminta_ was the name printed above the words. It was a pretty name. I began to sing.

_You have brought me _

_To that moment_

_Where words run dry_,

_To that moment_

_Where speech_

_Disappears _

_Into silence_,

_Silence_…

I read ahead, and said, "Erik, I don't think I can sing this…"

"Sing! It is nothing but a song…" Was that longing in his voice? I sung.

_I have come here_,

_Hardly knowing _

_The reason why_…

_In my mind_,

_I_'_ve already_

_Imagined our bodies entwining_,

_Defenseless and silent_-

_No second thoughts_,

_I_'_ve decided_,

_Decided_…

That was where the notes cut off. I looked at him wearily, half apprehensive, and half…hopeful. I was ashamed to admit it, but I had imagined our bodies entwining, even though I belonged to Raoul. And even though he was like, twenty years older than me. Or maybe he was my age, maybe he was younger. It was impossible to tell. Once again I contemplated taking off the white crescent of a mask that hid his face from me and the rest of the world. Then, recalling the consequences of the last time I did that, I figured that I could continue wondering.

"Erik-" He ignored me, rearranging some notes, almost as if he was fine tuning to my voice.

"Again. With _meaning_." So once more, I began to sing, and this time I meant it, my voice louder and clearer, and the emotion behind my voice should convince him- it was real and wrong enough.

_You have brought me _

_To that moment_

_Where words run dry_,

_To that moment_

_Where speech_

_Disappears _

_Into silence_,

_Silence_…

_I have come here_,

_Hardly knowing _

_The reason why_…

_In my mind_,

_I_'_ve already_

_Imagined our bodies entwining_,

_Defenseless and silent_-

_No second thoughts_,

_I_'_ve decided_,

_Decided_…

He nodded. "Good, but it could be better. You'll have plenty of chances to practice though," he mumbled, half aloud, half to himself. I tried to stifle my yawn, but it came out anyways. He looked up, as if startled to see that I was tired. Tomorrow was the New Year's party, and I would have to be up early to help prepare for it. So much for sleep.

"Christine, you're half asleep," he observed. He glanced at his watch and looked surprised. "I hadn't thought that so much time had past," he murmured. "Come, you must return to your bed. So once again, we began the journey back up to the world where the sun would be rising in just a few short hours. This time, I fell asleep in his firm grasp started to drift off almost immediately, snuggling into the cloak that he was constantly wearing. The only time I'd seen him take it off was to wrap me in it as a blanket. I wondered vaguely if he would leave it with me again. Chances were that he wouldn't, but I could still hope…It smelled like him, roses and parchment and leather. It was a wonderful combination, and I fell asleep in his arms, lost in his scent. When we reached the hall outside my bedroom, he shook me gently and I woke up.

I half stepped, half fell out of his warm arms and in the process, my new engagement ring fell off my finger and hit the floor with a ping. He reached down to pick it up for me, and I watched the shock register in his face, quickly followed by anger and hurt. "_Christine_," he sang quietly.

"Erik, I'm so sorry, I should have told you…" but he was gone, leaving the ring at my feet. I hugged my knees to my chest, huddled in front of the door and cried. I felt like I had just lost the most important thing that I had ever had.


	14. Chapter 13

All was quiet as I awoke the next morning, remembering words struck on parchment yellow with age and the scent of roses. The bouquet in my vase beside my bed was dead, and as I stroked the dry petals, they broke away from the bed and fell to the dormitory floor. For some reason that was unknown to me, a tear fell from my eye and ran down my cheek. Shrugging out of my nightgown, I dressed and prepared myself for the day. How was it that I was so in love with Raoul, but yet consumed by Erik's fire? He was much older than me, more monster than man. Then why did I love him so?

My hairbrush slipped out of my fingers and fell the floor with a thud. My knees quickly followed, and I held my head in my hands as it began to throb. When I opened my eyes, I was met with the harsh white light of a hospital room. Memories came flooding back, and I began to cry as I realized that it had all been a dream- Erik, the lair, Raoul, the Opera Populaire, all of it. Someone whispered my name and started to stroke my hand. "_Christine_," Hunter gave me a half smile. He was lying in a bed right beside mine, holding my hand. "_You_'_re awake_." His words were blurred, as if I was hearing them through water.

"_Where are we_?" My own speech was blurred, causing me to wonder if my hearing had somehow been damaged.

"_We_'_re in the hospital_. _The doctors say that we are very sick_. _Apparently we have been wavering in and out of hallucinations_. _You_'_ve been in a comma for two weeks_, _but you_'_re awake now_." His eyes changed, became filled with fear. "_Christine_, _I don_'_t know what is real and what isn_'_t now_. _I had the strangest dream_, _only you were there with me_…" he faltered and our eyes met. Something was wrong. His hair was growing longer, his clothes were changing…he was morphing into Raoul.

"_NO_!" I screamed. I couldn't loose him again, couldn't loose myself. And suddenly, Erik was there. He practically filled the room, he was all I saw.

"Christine," he cried. "I thought you had promised that you would never return." He turned and looked at Raoul with cold eyes. "It's him, isn't it? It's him who is doing this to you, pulling you in and out of reality." He stalked over to where Hunter was convulsing and pulled out a Punjab lasso.

"_Erik_, _no_! _Please_!"

I opened my eyes and found myself kneeling on the floor beside my bed, as if nothing had happened. Why did I keep having these hallucinations? I tried to shrug it out, but Erik's words echoed in my ears, the only thing that sounded real. Was it Erik who was keeping me chained to this life, or was it Raoul pulling me away?

The day passed by in a blur, and the vision was soon forgotten. Finally, a few moments before the party, Raoul managed to steal me away from the throng of people who occupied the main hall of the opera house. "Oh, Raoul," I fell into his arms, snuggling into his warm embrace. Remembering where we were, I shrugged away. The chorus on the stairs began to sing, announcing the start of the masquerade ball.

_Masquerade_!  
_Paper faces on parade_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Hide your face_, _so the world will never find you_!  
_Masquerade_!  
_Every face a different shade_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Look around_ -  
_there_'_s another_  
_mask behind you_!

Beautiful dancers and gymnasts whirled about. A man dressed as a monkey danced past us, playing the cymbals, sending a pang of regret through me as I recalled the paper-mache music box that's music had awoken me from my slumber the first night that I had slept in the lair. 

_Flash of mauve_.  
_Splash of puce_.  
_Fool and king_.  
_Ghoul and goose_.  
_Green and black_.  
_Queen and priest_.  
_Trace of rouge_.  
_Face of beast_.  
_Faces_.

_Take your turn_.  
_Take a ride_.  
_On a merry_ - _go_ - _round  
In an inhuman race_.

_Eye of gold_.  
_Thigh of blue_.  
_True is false_.  
_Who is who_?  
_Curl of lip_.  
_Swirl of gown_.  
_Ace of hearts_.  
_Face of clown_.  
_Faces_!  
_Drink it in  
Drink it up_  
'_til you drown in the light_.  
_In the sound_. 

Raoul spun me around and we joined in the fun. "_But who can name the face_?" I spun from dancer from dancer, whirling far to fast to stop. "Raoul!" The chorus started dancing and singing again, separating the two of us. 

_Masquerade_!  
_Grinning yellows_,  
_spinning reds_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Take your fill_ -  
_let the spectacle  
astound you_!  
_  
Masquerade_!  
_Burning glances_,_  
turning heads_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Stop and stare  
at the sea of smiles  
around you_!

_Masquerade_!  
_Seething shadows  
breathing lies_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_You can fool  
any friend who  
ever knew you_!

_Masquerade_!  
_Leering satyrs_,  
_peering eyes_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Run and hide_ -_  
but a face will  
still pursue you_!

I finally returned to Raoul's strong arms, and he led me in a waltz as I reeled. "Oh, Raoul." The managers, Carlotta and Ubaldo made toasts, and Meg and Mme. Giry danced down the stairs to join them. I waved at Meg as Raoul led me away. We looked around us before slinking behind a statue. I picked up my ring and marveled at it's beauty. "_Think of it_!" I sang to him. "_A secret engagement_! _Look_- _your future bride_! _Just think of it_!" I twirled around, letting the dreamy fabric of my purple dress swish around me. He looked a little upset, just like he had when I had asked that we keep it a secret from the opera house. I hadn't even told Meg yet.

"_But why is it secret_? _What have we to hide_?"

"_Please, let_'_s not fight_…" I trailed off.

"_Christine_, _you_'_re free_!" Oh, if only he knew the half of it.

"_Wait till the time is right_…"

"_When will that be_?" he half laughed, half demanded. "_It_'_s an engagement_,_ not a crime_! _Christine_, _what are you afraid of_?"

"_Let_'_s not argue_…" I sang quickly.

"_Let_'_s not argue_…" He repeated.

"_Please pretend_…_You will_…"

_"I can only hope I_'_ll_…"

"_Understand_, _in time_!" Once more, I was stolen away from Raoul and spun from man to man. But each one seemed to look more and more like Erik. I cried out and began to breathe heavily. Just as the chorus began to sing once more, Raoul caught me in his arms. "Thank you," I murmured.

_Masquerade_!  
_Paper faces on parade_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Hide your face_, _so the world will never find you_!  
_Masquerade_!  
_Every face a different shade_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Look around_ -  
_there_'_s another_  
_mask behind you_!

_Masquerade_!  
_Burning glances_,_  
turning heads_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Stop and stare  
at the sea of smiles  
around you_!  
_Masquerade_!  
_Grinning yellows_,  
_spinning reds_.  
_Masquerade_!  
_Take your fill_ -  
_let the spectacle  
astound you_!

There was a great bang and a chorus of screams as the music died off. I whirled around and looked to the top of the stairs where Meg was frantically pointing. A figure, a man dressed all in crimson red robes was standing on the top step, with a mask of death completely covering his face. Even with the mask, I knew that it was Erik. And the manuscript under his arm confirmed it. Picking up the score, he started down the stairs. I watched grown men and women alike shiver as he stalked down the stairs. No. Why had he come? After last night…this could mean nothing but trouble. As if on cue, he began to sing.

"_Have you missed me_, _good messieurs_? _Did you think that I had left you for good_?" He made people part like Moses separating the seas as he descended the steps. "_Have you missed me_, _good messieurs_? _I have written you an opera_!" He grabbed the familiar leather bound manuscript. It was much larger than it had been at midnight. The pages must still be wet with ink. I cowered behind Raoul as he threw the humongous book at André, who caught it rather deftly. His lips were pressed in a hard line, and he shot a nervous glance at Firmin.

"_I advise you to comply_- _my instructions should be clear-_" He unsheathed a huge glistening silver sword and gestured at the chandelier as he sung. "_Remember_, _there are worse things than a shattered chandelier_…" There was a collective gasp from the crowd. If they didn't know about what caused the chandelier, they did now. He had reached the foot of the stairs by now, and he walked right toward me. Suddenly, he was everything that I saw. He filled my vision, he was everything…and now he was reaching towards my neck. He grabbed the golden chain that was hanging around my neck and picked up the ring. It was so tense around us it was like we were suspended in the air, protected by a bubble.

Suddenly, he ripped the ring from my throat and took it. He practically shouted, half sung at me. "_Your chains are still mine_-_you will sing for me_!" Raoul took me and put me behind him, becoming a human shield. "Bravo, monsieur," I heard Erik whisper. "Bravo." With an enormous crack, he was gone; he vanished in a cloud of red smoke.

The only word I could manage was a whispered "No…"


	15. Chapter 14

Raoul reached for my hand in the smoke, but I let it slip out of my grasp. I needed to be alone now. My head was pounding, with both the echoes of a voice wrought with fury and ghosts of memories so foggy that I wasn't even sure that they existed. I fled, up the stairs and through the halls until I reached the hall that connected the various corridors of the opera house and raced through a door, slamming it behind me. The satin fabric of my dress swished, swirling around my legs like gentle claws. Tears streamed down my face, undoubtedly washing the makeup that Meg had so carefully applied a few hours previously away. My heels slipped off, but I did not slow to pick them up. I felt nauseous, and I covered my mouth. I reached the room I was searching for and fell into a heap on the floor.

Flickering candles dimly lit the small yet cavernous room. My chest heaved with sobs and I cradled my head in my hands, for once not caring how pathetic I was. The pounding in my head reached a fervor and I let myself fall backwards onto the floor, and let the cold stone absorb me and let the colors of the stone walls adorned with stained glass windows meld with the colors of the delicately spun tapestries replace my normal vision. The colors swirled and spun in front of my eyes until I could take it no more and the world faded into a blissful black.

Behind my eyes, I saw a coffin being lowered into the ground on a rainy January afternoon. Black umbrellas protected bent heads from the water cascading from the sky, but the ground turned to mud that swirled around their feet. Some people were crying, and others were silent, just standing quietly. A couple looked like they desperately wanted the whole bloody affair to be over. There were many people there; the person had been well-liked. Six men carried a white coffin towards the hole cut into the ground about ten yards away from where they started. I recognized the men, and realized with slight horror that it was someone I had known whose body now lay stone cold in that coffin. The procession seemed to take forever, but the coffin reached the grave and was lowered slowly into the ground. One by one, the people started to sing. They sung a familiar melody, but I could not catch the words. A priest stood beside the grave and said a final prayer as the spectators threw flowers into the grave, sending the poor soul off to heaven, and that was when I caught the name on the programs that a couple of men and women were holding: Christine Daae.

The pure and simple horror of the moment hit me all at once. I was watching myself being lowered into a grave, my grave. These people thought that I was dead, that I was not alive, that I was no longer full of life and energy anymore. They thought me to be nothing, nothing at all. I tried to cry, to make some sort of noise, to indicate that they didn't have to be so sad, that I was alive and well, but I was unable. I looked down at my own hands, and saw that they were ghostly white and transparent. I was a ghost. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound was freed from my lips.

The scene faded away and I was left in the little shrine, blissfully alone and filled with a sense of finality. The pounding in one corner of my head had stopped. The only things causing me worry at present were two men, so alike and yet so different. I resolved that I would not choose one man at present. Erik was angry with me, but had told me that I was still his. Raoul loved me, and I knew it. But then, I knew that Erik loved me as well, in a different way. Raoul's love was so plain, so obvious, like puppy love. Yet Erik's love was like a deep well: mysterious and so deep that I can't see the bottom. It filled me with a sense of curiosity as well as deep fear. His love scared me. Raoul's did not. Raoul was predictable, Raoul was dependable; Erik was more akin to a constantly changing wind.

The low notes of an organ crept into the room, and I wondered if I was just hearing sounds again, wondering if my brain was just trying to fill the silence. The notes were distinct, and I knew that he was playing. Deep below me, Erik's hands were gracing the keys of the pipe organ and he was pouring his soul into his music, surrounded by the craggy walls of his personal Hell. My heart went out to him in that instant, filled with remorse and caring. How could I refuse this deep, unpredictable love? How could I continue to destroy a man who had already lost everything? I got up, wiping my face and determined to find him, though I had no idea how. I had to tell him, to apologize. As I reached the door, the handle turned before I could clasp it. I jumped back, startled, and waiting for my angel to walk through the door.

It was not the angel I expected that walked into the room. It was Raoul. He looked distraught, but his eyes instantly lit up when he saw me. "Christine! Darling, I thought that I had lost you! I thought that he had taken you…" he didn't finish his thought, undoubtedly spotting the crazy expression in my eyes. "Darling, are you all right? Are you upset because he took the ring?" I resisted the urge to laugh, not wanting to hurt anyone else tonight. How could I explain to him that I loved him, but that I loved Erik too? How does one go about breaking a heart? I decided not to, and decided to play along with his game. And staring into his dark eyes, I found his charm undeniable. He was taking me into his arms now, once more casting his sweet spell over me. How could I crush Raoul? I would destroy him if I told him the truth.

I began to cry once more, torn in two. How could I choose? Why did I have to choose? I wanted both, and I desperately wished that I could combine the two into one. He held me close to him, and after a few moments, he kissed the tears from my cheeks. I froze; this affection was unfamiliar to me. I liked the way it made me feel, and Raoul's sympathy oozed off of him and surrounded me like a warm sunny day. I remembered the roof, and what he had said to me. I remembered when he had proposed, a move that Erik had never made. Raoul loved me, and was not afraid to show it. This was pure, this was real. Our lips met and we slowly sank down onto the floor. I let the raging emotions under my skin take over my mind, trying to force out all my doubts and worries.

In the light of the candles, a change occurred between the two of us. I stopped worrying about going too fast and stopped worrying about Erik. Raoul was my past, present, and future. I felt him loosening the stays on the back of my dress and my fingers met his there, helping and hindering. His hands felt glorious on my alabaster skin, and the last worry in my head fell away with my dress. I left the real world once more, but not to a vision this time. I went to a real place, a wonderful place of warmth and love. I lost myself in an ocean of sighs and little breaths and stayed with Raoul until I fell asleep beside him, not paying any attention to the fact that I had just committed a sin in a shrine. I didn't think about much of anything, just bliss.

Snow was collecting on the windowsill when I opened my eyes, and Raoul was lying beside me. Our bodies had grown cold in the room that winter had invaded while we slept. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell heavily. He was lost to a deep sleep, but a happy sleep. I smiled, and then I became aware of my body for the first time since I had woken up. It was sore, everywhere, but mostly my legs. I thought about how badly rehearsal would today and that was when I realized two things. One, I had absolutely no idea what time it was or how late I had slept in. Number two, I wondered if there would even be a rehearsal, after last night's turn of events. I wanted to get up and recollect myself, to dress myself and to try to get warm again, but I didn't want to wake Raoul. He looked so peaceful.

So instead, I lie in Raoul's arms and let the guilt and fear creep back into my mind. I realized what I had done last night and wondered just what the hell I'd been thinking. I was eighteen, and barely at that. Raoul was twenty six. For some odd reason, I had never thought of eight years being so far apart before. And then I thought of Erik, poor Erik. What if he found out? I was greatly disturbed as I wondered if he already knew, if he had seen…he was omnipresent in the theater, and seemed as if he could be everywhere at once. I blushed, despite myself, and lost myself in shame.

After what seemed like an unnecessary eternity of waiting, Raoul finally began to stir some time later. I was grateful that he held me with my back to his chest, so I didn't have to look into his eyes. I think that he sensed it too, for we sat in silence for another painful eternity. What could be said? My face burned as I realized that he had seen everything last night; that I gave myself to him without a second thought. What had I been thinking? It had felt good at the time, but now it felt so, so wrong. The dissonance came back to my head, and it began to throb against the cold stone floor. Finally, Raoul got up and went to where his clothes had been thrown in a corner. I didn't watch him dress. Instead, I got up and found my dress, realizing that I would have to talk the walk of shame, as I deserved. I sighed and turned after I finished tying the laces awkwardly behind me. Raoul leaned against the window, but he did not watch, instead his eyes were inverted and he stared pointedly at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Christine."

"I am too." We stared awkwardly at the floor for a few moments more, and then I whispered, "I need to go."

"As do I." I turned slowly and opened the door. Each step hurt, reminding me of what I had done. I walked in solitude, grateful for the lack of life. I think that if I had run into anyone, I would have died of embarrassment. It was obvious where I had been, what I had done. I was sure that it was written plainly on my face.

I finally reached the dormitory and found my room that I shared with Meg and six other girls. At first, I thought that I was blissfully alone, but I quickly realized that Meg was sitting in her bed. She crossed her arms when I entered. My eyes met hers, and they filled with shock as she took in my dress, my hair, my face. "Oh. My. Lord. Here I was, worried sick that the phantom had carried you off once more, and you were sleeping with someone. Who? Him? Raoul? Both?"

"Meg!"

"No! What were you thinking? Everyone's looking for you. I thought that he had killed you."

"Meg, it's not like that at all…"

"Oh? Then what is it like, Christine? Pray, enlighten me." An emotion changed in her face. "Oh, Christine! Did he rape you?" She ran to me, and wrapped her arms around me and began to cry.

"No, Meg. I…I slept with Raoul, not the phantom. And…he didn't rape me." She recoiled.

"You little…did you enjoy it?" she asked angrily, but with an undeniable undertone of curiosity. I squirmed.

"No. It was awful, waking up. And it hurts." She hugged me close once more.

"I'm sorry Christine. I really am, I'm being mean. I just feel like I'm losing you to him lately." I hadn't really that I had been pushing Meg away the whole time.

"No, you have. I'm so sorry, Meg." She smiled.

"I forgive you. He's your first boy, I can't really blame you." She thought for a moment. "Wait, so are you going to break off the engagement now?"

"No, I can't. I couldn't do that to him."

"Do you love him?"

"I…I think so." I sat, wondering about that _him_ that I had just spoken aloud. Was that him Raoul or Erik? I wasn't sure anymore.


End file.
